


No Title

by pulangaraw



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Episode Tag, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-24
Updated: 2009-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulangaraw/pseuds/pulangaraw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ficlet written for the whoniverse1000 challenge.</p>
    </blockquote>





	No Title

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet written for the whoniverse1000 challenge.

„Was this what you had in mind when you mentioned that we could flirt later?“ Shakespeare stretched his arms languidly over his head, before wrapping one around the Doctor's chest.

„Uhm... to be honest, not quite. I mean I always did suspect, but then again... different places, different customs, you know.“ The Doctor smiled back at Shakespeare.

„Yeah, about that... where are you from, exactly?“ Shakespeare's tone was still light and playful, but there was a seriousness underlying the question that made the Doctor squirm a little.

„Ah, well... we don't have to talk about this now, do we?“ The Doctor pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at Shakespeare. „I can think of a lot of other things we could do instead. And they would be much more fun,“ he grinned.

„Oh really? And what did you have in mind, Doctor?“ Shakespeare grinned back at him.

„Well... you could read me a sonnet.“

„Seriously?“

„Yes. Come on. I've always wanted someone to read me a sonnet. Well, not just any someone. I want you to read me one. Please?“

Shakespeare sighed. „Alright. You are a very strange man, Doctor.“

„So I've been told.“

Shakespeare sat up and rested himself against the headboard. Then he furrowed his brow for a while. Finally he took a deep breath and began in a recital tone. „O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st-“

„Stop,“ the Doctor interrupted.

„What, don't you like it? I wrote it about two months ago. It fits you.“

„I know. I've changed my mind, though.“

„What would you prefer that I do instead?“ Shakespeare looked a mixture between confused and put off. The Doctor gave him a consiliatory smile.

„You could kiss me.“

„Now, that sounds like a good idea,“ Shakespeare answered, his smile coming back, and followed it through with a bone-melting kiss.

„You kiss just as well as you write, Bill,“ the Doctor said when they broke apart.

„Wait till you see what else I can do.“

“I can imagine-“ the Doctor started, but was cut off by Shakespeare.

„Enough talking for tonight.“

„Brilliant idea,“ the Doctor agreed and pulled Shakespeare in for another kiss.


End file.
